In a terrible tour bus wreck, Gerard Way saves his band mates from death, but in the process he becomes horrible disfigured and scarred.
"Gerard honey,dinner is ready." Lindsey spoke softly from outside my bedroom door, tapping lightly on the thick oak door.
"I'll eat later." I gave her my muffled response that I usually gave every night.
I heard her sigh softly. "Alright, it will be downstairs whenever you're hungry." she said, moments later I could hear her footsteps walking down the stairs.
I looked back at my book, which I was reading in the dim lamp near my arm chair. Life had not always been like this, we were once I a very happy family, I was a very happy man, that was, until the night of November 18th, 2013. We had been on tour, on our way to upper New York to play a few shows the next day at a large venue, the seats were sold out. The roads were icy, it was snowing, they had advised us not to go out, something was wrong with the bus's engine. We didn't think it was too serious, and there was no way in hell we would disappoint thousands of fans. But as I said, they roads were getting terrible, the bus slid on a long sheet of black ice, sending us right into a patch if trees, the engine hitting hard and exploding on impact. The bus took to the fire quickly, spreading through out it. The driver and I were the only ones awake, the driver died instantly when the engine exploded.
I got the rest of the guys awake and out of bed, practically dragging my brother out who sleeps like the dead. I made sure they were out safe, just as I was about to jump out of the bus, a gust of wind slammed the door closed, trapping me in the fire consumed vehicle. It was the back of my shirt that caught on fire first. I thought it was the worst pain imaginable, but then it spread to my chest and hair, and I thought I had just entered hell. I tried to extinguish the fire, but I only made it worse. When it spread to my face, I finally got the fire engulfed door open, falling right into the snow, and that's all I could remember of that night.
I awoke three days later in a hospital bed, nearly covered in bandages and wrappings, surrounding by tubes and wires. I was in the hospital for a month. I had a broken arm, several broken ribs. severe third degree burns on my back, chest, arms, hands, and face, and just patches of hair remaining. I received 6 skin graphs to my chest and face. After they released me from the hospital, I came home and couldn't stand the though of going out again. Pictures of the accident and what I looked like afterward were released to the press somehow and ended up all over the internet.
I've never really been that vain of a person, but for the world to see that I had become this ugly burnt monster, it put me into a deep depression that I still haven't gotten out of and probably never will. I can't even net Bandit, who is 6 now, see my face, I don't want her seeing her father like this. Lindsey, I thought she would leave me, but she's stuck with me this whole time, though I know it's putting a dent in our marriage. She see's me everyday, though I tend to turn my face a lot, I love her like no other, but why should she have to look at this depressed ugly son of a bitch? She deserves so much better.
The band isn't over, we're still technically a band, but we haven't put out a new album in three years and haven't played any shows since before the accident. From time to time they guys will try and contact me, I respond sometimes, but I don't see them, I've only let my brother see me since I came home from the hospital. I spend most of my time in my room or studio, I don't go out in public. I work from home now, writing more comics for company's and doing art work at times, it supports my family and allows me to stay home.
"Gerard?" Lindsey was at the door again, I looked at the clock, not even realizing it was 9 now, Bandit's bedtime. The problem was though, we didn't share the same room anymore, I let her have our bedroom and I moved into one of the guest rooms.
"Yeah?" I answered as she turned the doorknob, I quickly looked away as she walked across the room, knowing my face would at least be concealed thanks to the dim lighting.
"I'm putting Bandit to bed now, why don't you go say good night and tuck her in?" she asked.
"Not tonight." I said, looking down.
I sighed deeply. "I don't want to give her something to have nightmares about." I answered.
She paused for a moment then spoke. "Gerard...." I could hear the struggle in her voice. "She misses her daddy, so much, please?"
"Today, after she came home from kindergarten, she brought a painting she made home. Do you have any idea what she painted?"
"Unicorns and ponies?"
"No Gerard. She painted a picture of you and her, she said she missed how you and her would finger paint."
I bit my lip hard. "She was four then..how can she even remember that?"
"Gee,she's smart, so smart, but you never spend time with her to know that." Lindsey said, touching my knee as she sat down on the floor in front of my chair. "She loves and missed you terribly, we both do."
"Lindsey please....not tonight."
She nodded and stood up. "Alright then, I won't push you, I guess I'll be going to bed too after I put her to bed, I have a lot to get done in the morning." she sighed. "Don't stay up too late...I love you." She bent down and kissed the top of my head, my hair had all grown back in and reached just above my shoulders now.
"I love you too, tell her I said goodnight and I lover her." I told her as she walked out the door, closing it behind her. I tossed the book and turned out the light, curling up until a ball on my bed. I hated myself. I couldn't even face my own daughter, I was such a terrible father.
I awoke in the middle of the night, needing to use the bathroom. I walked down the dark hall and into the bathroom squinting at the bright light and did my business, pausing to look into the mirror at the reflection I hated so much now. My face was covered in this scars, on my neck and lower jaw was where the skin graphs had been given and there was an obvious line from where the graphs ended and my actual skin begin. The left side of my face near my cheeks and hairline, the scars were the worse, red and bumpy, still in the process of healing after over a year. The scars on my back and chest were even worse, my skin probably permanently red and ridged from the burnt skin. My daughter would never want to see me like this, no one would, I was a hideous deformed washed up rock star.
The tears oozed from my eyes, which hurt because my tear ducts had been damaged from the accident, every time I cried it burned my eyes. "You're pathetic." I told myself, and shut out the light, crawling back into my bed, not wanting to see the light or morning.